Wish you were here
by I-love-u-long-time
Summary: It hasn't even been a week after she was taken from him, and already his life had taken a drastic toll. Prequel of 'Till the Sunrise' rated for death and suicidal thoughts Arthur/OC


**The second one shot in the Arthur/Ana series :D I've had this in my mind for ages and I just had to let it out before I went nuts. I came up with it while listening to Wish you were here by Avril Lavigne, so to get better 'feel' at the mood then you should definetly listen, or just listen to it anyway cuz it's an amazingly beautiful song. If you want to review that would be most appreciated. No flaming though.**

**Disclaimer - I don't own anything from Inception, but damn do I wish I owned Arthur, everything belongs to the genius Christopher Nolan, however, Ana is from the many wonders of my imagination**

* * *

><p>It hasn't even been a week since she was taken from him, and already his life had taken a drastic toll. He refused to leave the house, with the exception of work, he refused to speak unless it was unavoidable, he refused to eat unless the food was forced down his throat. He was nothing but a shell of what he used to be. When she was in his life.<br>Dom had stuck by him, he had made sure he was taking care of himself, as far as he was concerned Dom was the only person who could properly understand what he was going through. Though the cause of their love's deaths were considerably different.

Dom had known not to ask how he was coping when it happened, he'd known to keep quiet; to simply keep him company without a speaking a word, or to give him space when he needed it without question, and for that Arthur was silently thankful. Unlike the others who had bombarded him with questions and remarks when they'd heard, and all of them a repeat of the last, as if they had read it out of a single Hallmark card. He flinched whenever such words were uttered, most of which when he was asked how he was feeling. How would they expect him to be feeling after losing not only the love of his life, but his closest friend? And even if he could find the words to describe the immense trauma that was boiling inside, they would never understand, Dom was the one person who could comprehend the circumstances.

He had told Dom to keep a watchful eye out for when he was alone, to make sure he wouldn't do something he would not be able to erase, regardless Dom had known to look out for what he was doing, and he made sure that he kept himself out of harm.

It has been obvious that he has taken it roughly, perhaps worse than others would have. It has been obvious, by the dark circles under his eyes, that he hasn't been able to sleep soundly since her passing, and by the redness that had filled them every now and then that he had she countless tears.

It hasn't been a week, but he knows there will be no happy ending, not if he wants to be with her again, a direction he is all too willing to take, but knows would be of no help to follow, and because of that he has asked Dom to do whatever means possible to keep him safe.  
>The nights are worst, when he is used to laying in bed with her, spending hours together, talking, or merely holding one another until they could no longer keep their eyes from drooping to a peaceful slumber. Now spent doing anything he could think of to keep himself from resorting to the easy way out of his misery, that is until he had found a way of calming his aching sting with a projection of her, finding that they had at least dulled during the hours of his dreams.<p>

It has almost been a week, but to him it feels like a lifetime, a lifetime he is reluctant to live alone. Yes, he had the team, his friends, but not who he wanted, who he needed. He found himself staring down into a full cylinder of pain killers, fighting the urge to swallow each and every one of them, eventually choosing her projection over the serenity that came with an overdose.

He wishes, more than anything, to be taken back to that night, if he could change one thing, he would have stayed with her that one moment longer, if he had stayed she would have had a better chance at survival. But instead he had left for a bottle of wine. And when he had returned her limp body was laying motionless, blood sinking into the carpet from the bullet wound through her skull.

He frantically throws himself at his phone, the impulsive need to call Dom fretting away at his once calm nature. His fingers hover barely an inch over the keys as he reconsiders, it was late, close to one in the morning. Dom would have been asleep by now. Instead he takes a sleeping pill and his body falls into his bed.

It has been a week since she was taken from him, and he has yet to wholly accept the fact that the wisest choice was to continue living without her until the fateful day where they can meet once more.

It has been a week and the best he could do was hope that the pain would eventually heal.


End file.
